


Capture

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dubious Understanding of Medicine (by me), Gen, It's just some generalised ouch, Light Angst, Major Illness, Mild Language, Minor Violence, My tags tell a story bc I'm trying to appear on tag of the day, Ouch, Protectiveness, Roadhog is Very Concerned, Seizures, These two are everything to me alright, This isn't so much a sickfic as idk what it's not got the hurt/comfort element of sickfic, best bodyguard 10/10, but not really angsty either I don't think, it's fun! as you can tell!, ok fine, this is the only way I can describe my fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: In which the two Junkers get captured because Junkrat's apparent medical problem is worse than either of them imagined, when he collapses mid-escape. Somehow it all works out okay, but this doesn't stop Roadhog worrying. A lot.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [volatileSoloist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/volatileSoloist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Caretaking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971621) by [volatileSoloist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/volatileSoloist/pseuds/volatileSoloist). 



> eyyyyyy volatileSoloiste I said I'd try and get this written and this is not what I expected it would be to begin w but here u go. Consider it a late christmas present from the writing dimension. 
> 
> I'm totally addicted to writing these two now and if anyone talks shit about them I will FIGHT. They r my children. Yes they r older than me. But they r still my children. Also I am not, nor have I ever been, Australian, I'm just bullshitting 100% of this. I think it's easier than if I were an American writing Australian characters because there are some dialect similarities w British English but I'm still blagging it. 
> 
> Pls leave me feedback this is my first Overwatch fic and I cry at every comment so uh leave comments to break me pls.
> 
> Oh yeah and check out volatileSoloiste's fic because this is working with that basis in mind and also it hurts a lot. Such a good fic and definitely deserves more love.

The day they got caught, Roadhog wished he’d caught the signs sooner. He was too busy trying to make a getaway to pick up on his boss’ deterioration. What kind of bodyguard was he? He should have seen what was happening, should have noticed how skittish and  _ off _ Junkrat was acting today. They shouldn’t even have ended up holed up in the twenty story building desperately looking for an out to begin with. But a job had gone south and they’d been forced into a corner - something that wouldn’t have happened if Junkrat had been at his best, able to think them an exit. As it went, they had a whole professional team after them. Fuck’s sake.

“Y’all don’t have to make this difficult,” one of them drawled from just out of view. “C’mon out with your hands up.”

Junkrat laughed madly. “Oi, Roadie, have yerself a listen to this drongo. ‘s he havin’ us on? Who does he think we are? Must’ve got us confused with some other blokes fitting our description, if he thinks we’d ever do that. Want some of what he’s smoking, me.”

Roadhog grunted. “You do know who that is, right?” 

His friend shrugged. “Some poor confused wanker who thinks he’s a bloody cowboy? What? He someone I should’ve heard of?”

Under his mask, Roadhog rolled his eyes. “...you could say that.” He wasn’t in the mood to go explaining this to Junkrat now, and even if he was, they didn’t have the time. 

Absently, as if his hands were drifting of their own accord, Junkrat started to automatically load his frag launcher. Roadhog had to physically stop him and saw him blink in confusion.

“The fuck d’you think you’re doing? Bloody hell, Hog, how’d you think we’re getting out of here. We’re gonna blow this place sky high!” He was grinning insanely, his eyes wide and maddened, unhinged. He wormed out of Roadhog’s grip. “It’ll be fuckin’ beaut. You just watch.”

“Rat, this is a confined space. You’re just as likely to kill us too.”

“And?” Junkrat sounded genuinely confused. “Just trust me on this one, mate.” Roadhog relented and Junkrat smirked. He stepped forward and then hesitated. “My fuckin’ head’s killing me. Sooner we get somewhere we can kick back and have a pint or two the better.”

Roadhog felt a sinking feeling rise in his gut. This couldn’t happen now. Of all times, this couldn’t happen  _ now _ . Not when they had to be escaping and were in very real danger. It hadn’t happened on a job before now. He had no idea what to do. Just try his best to keep an eye on the idiot he was bodyguarding. Don’t let him get himself hurt. Because if Roadhog was right, and he knew he was, Junkrat was on the edge of...of whatever happened to him. Of  _ something _ . 

He didn’t reach for his grenades. Instead he moved to take his wheel off his back. In absence of any other plan, Roadhog decided to work with it. Regardless of his problems, Junkrat was incredibly good at thinking on the fly, surprisingly so when you didn’t know him well. His improvisation abilities were beyond impressive. Roadhog’s job was primarily to react accordingly to whatever whims Junkrat was drifting with that day. To protect him from his own stupidity when he tried to pull some crazy stunt. That was his job. Someone had to do it. He wondered how Junkrat had even lived this long without him.

He loaded up his scrap gun and nodded, following Junkrat’s lead as always. Junkrat moved toward the door, opening it slowly as he pulled the chain on his tire and shot Roadhog a wild grin before sending it out around the door, a sudden surprise. They quickly burst out of the door, Junkrat at the ready with his grenades, Roadhog hefting the weight of his hook in one hand, on guard, keeping an eye out for Junkrat as he went after the man he recognised as outlaw Jesse McCree, churning shrapnel out at him as the man backed up down the corridor, dropping and rolling out of the way, moving quickly to try and line up a shot with his distinctive Peacekeeper.

“Woah there big guy-” A sudden flash, blinding. “Anyone ever say ya need to get some chill?”

He could hear the explosions behind him. Junkrat’s grenades going off. He was doing alright. Roadhog could hear his insane chuckles behind him. That was a good sign. There was a woman’s voice there too, she sounded German maybe? He had his suspicions who she was. And then, a little way down the corridor, there was another woman blinking around, swift rushes of blue light getting close to him suddenly and darting away before he could focus well enough. And he’d seen earlier a bird-like armoured suit briefly as they rushed out. He knew too that there were others covering the exits while this team rushed them in the narrow corridors. 

Explosions. Roadhog kept up his offensive against the two rushing him, striking out and finally landing a solid hit on the young woman. He was going to fire shrapnel at her when he heard a sudden yell. And the explosions stopped. 

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t touch him,” another accented female voice, hard to place, said. “What’s going on, Mercy?”

“ _ Mein Gott _ he’s seizing,” Mercy replied and Roadhog couldn’t help turning to look. He heard the click of a gun pressed to his head. 

“Gotcha, big guy. Drop the weapons.” 

Roadhog’s grip on his hook tightened briefly, but the medic in her angelic wings knelt down by his companion’s side as his skinny body contorted and convulsed, face frozen in silent screams. Twisting in pain. Mercy looked up at Roadhog, her eyes fixing on his mask in an unspoken plea. Reluctantly he dropped his hook and gun, putting his hands up.

“There we go. Easy, wasn’t it?”

“Is he alright?” the young British woman, undoubtedly the famous Tracer asked. 

Mercy looked at Roadhog. “Does he have a history of epilepsy?” Numbly Roadhog shook his head. “Understood. Step back, Fareeha. Give him space.”

“He gets headaches,” Roadhog heard himself saying.  “Pulls some stupid shit and doesn’t remember it later. Never anything like this.”

“Is that so?” She moved to touch Junkrat and Roadhog tensed. “I’m making sure his airways are open. That is all,  _ ja _ ?”

“Be careful. Those grenades-” 

“I know. He  _ was _ firing them at me.”

He heard McCree chuckle. “Sonuvabitch almost got me good with that tire. If I hadn’t got myself out the way, we’d be sitting here talking about a different story, ‘bout how nice good old Jesse was and how much we’d all miss him. Course, I mean you guys. I’d be occupied elsewhere, being a tiny bit dead, y’know?”

“Only a tiny bit?” Tracer asked him.

“Well ‘course. I’m too pretty to be all the way dead, ain’t that the truth.”

“Jesse-” Mercy’s voice was strained. “Not the time. You and Fareeha take Mr Rutledge to the transport vehicle, if you don’t mind. Lena - I’d like your help here.”

“I need to stay with him,” Roadhog insisted stubbornly. “‘m his bodyguard.” The words sounded like a lame excuse when he said them out loud. Mercy gave him a sympathetic look and he cursed her for it. He didn’t want any sympathy, not least over this.

“He’ll be okay. Look, the seizure’s slowing now, see? You see his breathing is evening out?” She indicated his chest. Roadhog nodded. “If he goes back into another fit, we’ll have to transport him to Watchpoint immediately where we have the facilities to help him. But it looks like...yes, he seems to be coming out of it.”

Only then did Roadhog finally relax. His employer - his  _ friend _ \- would be okay. He had something of a shortage of friends. Junkrat was the only one, the only person he trusted. He couldn’t lose him.

He felt the gun to his back now and resisted the impulse to turn and land a punch right in that cowboy’s face, to crush him between his bare hands. See who was calling himself pretty then. If Junkrat were awake, he wouldn’t even hesitate before making a move and getting them out of there. But then they wouldn’t be in this situation if he were awake, if he were  _ himself _ . Whatever was wrong with him...it was getting worse. He just had to hope Junkrat wouldn’t be too annoyed at him for handing them both over. For surrendering, no matter the context. He’d be genuinely confused too, why Roadhog hadn’t left him and run.

That was not an option.

Now or ever.

He followed McCree and Pharah to their transport vehicle, glancing over his shoulder with no small degree of concern. The cowboy touched his arm, encouraging him to keep moving and he tensed, every instinct telling him to break this annoying gnat of a man and run. But he couldn’t. Someone had to keep an eye on Junkrat. It was his job. 

“He’s in good hands, big guy. Our Angie’s the best. You just watch, he’ll be right as rain in no time.” Roadhog said nothing. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You two are one hell of a team, ain’t ya?”

“You mean a team from hell,” Pharah muttered. “You know how much trouble these two have caused the authorities?”

McCree snorted. “Y’know how much trouble  _ I _ have caused the authorities? Been there, done that, darlin’.”

“Not exactly something to brag about.”

“I dunno. Depends on your perspective, doesn’t it?”

They passed a vast suit of armour, standing by the door ‘securing’ it. In actual fact he was engaged in a heated discussion with a small bearded man about...the logistics of building a Death Star in real life. The bigger man maintained it was entirely plausible and realistic. On seeing them, he hefted a massive hammer onto his shoulder and waved.

“Jesse! We heard explosions! I hope we didn’t miss any fun, but the doors were too small for my armour! Tell me everything!” He talked in exclamation marks and enthusiasm. There didn’t seem to be any volume control. 

McCree chuckled. “Someone had to mind the perimeter. The doc and Lena’ll be down with the other one in a second. He had some sort of...I dunno, a fit or somethin’.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I did not mean to sound so rude, talking about fun and such. Excuse me,” he said to Roadhog, completely sincere, even though he was  _ literally one of the people capturing him _ . Bizarre.

“There you go again, Reinhardt. Always putting your foot in it,” the tiny man muttered. “I should start disassembling my turrets, I take it?”

“You want a hand with that?”

The tiny man looked horrified. “I wouldn’t trust you to take them apart if my life depended on it. Delicate engineering is not your strongpoint. The opposite, in fact.”

Reinhardt snorted. “Delicate! You’re one to talk about delicate, Torb! A delicate little flower, that’s you!”

‘Torb’ rolled his eyes. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that so we can continue being friends and I don’t have to rig your suit to explode.”

“Ach, no! What would Brigitte say?”

“She’d probably thank me,” he muttered, storming off to get to work on his turrets. Reinhardt shrugged, genuinely baffled and took off his helmet to reveal a bearded, scarred face, cut up and rugged, mane of hair a mess. He ran a gauntleted hand through his hair and flashed a grin at Pharah.

“Stop posing, Reinhardt,” Pharah laughed. 

“But Fareeha, you said you had a poster of me! I thought you would appreciate it!”

“You do this every time. Every time we’ve worked together. You don’t even deny it anymore. You’re a deeply ridiculous man.” She was smiling. 

Reinhardt beamed. “Why thank you! It’s truly an honour.”

They knew one another well. They had a  _ banter _ going. They seemed effortlessly comfortable around one another, all of them did. No doubt, no anticipating a knife in the back or betrayal, they had worked together enough to have a degree of trust. 

Roadhog didn’t have that with anyone. Except...well. Except the obvious. He’d worked with Junkrat so much and for so long that  _ not _ hearing that constant chatter was unsettling. The silence. The lack of explosions. The clack of a peg-leg as Junkrat hobbled along, always rejecting any help where his own mobility was concerned. Always fiercely self-reliant, a common Junker trait; dependency being a form of weakness. No noise. Instead everything was way too quiet. Once, Roadhog had sought out quiet, preferring his own company. Then the scrawny Junker latched onto him like an inanely talkative limpet. 

It was not something he wanted to lose. 

He took a seat in the back of the transport vehicle, saying nothing, staring at a fixed point on the wall and refusing to move his gaze. Just staring. Zoning out and blocking out the world. Thinking of how earlier that day Junkrat had bragged about being able to rip out grenade pins with his teeth like people did in movies ( _ ‘s practically impossible in real life, unless you got teeth of steel. Fortunately Hoggo, that’s me to a T. Just you watch!) _ . He was just a stupid kid, going through life making it up as he went along. Just a stupid kid with no impulse control and no self-awareness. He wasn’t even 30 yet. Fuck, he wasn’t even 26. He couldn’t just  _ die _ . 

Junkrat would go out in fire and blood, and Roadhog would be with him when he did, because he was a good fucking bodyguard. He couldn’t just die like this.

Some time passed in agonisingly long silence, in which he was alone with only scenarios running through his head where Junkrat died and there was nothing he could do, because there were some things a bodyguard could fix and there were some things that were impossible but he couldn’t help blame himself for it. He should have seen this coming, the signs something was up with Junkrat today. He should have made him get some medical attention sooner, forced him to if needs be. He should have done  _ something _ . He was a shitty bodyguard. He was a shitty partner.

He was a shitty  _ friend _ .

Eventually, after all this, Tracer and Mercy hauled an unconscious Junkrat into the back of the transport, laying him down gently. He made a faint noise and then started to snore. Roadhog managed to relax a little then. A little normality in all this fucking chaos. Junkrat would be okay. He had to be.

“Jesse, give me your poncho.”

“First of all it’s a serape, second of all it’s mine and third of all it’s  _**my** serape _ . I would do many things for you, Angie, but you know I have a style going and-”

She cut him off. “Jesse. There is an unconscious man here who is sleeping off a seizure. We don’t have a blanket. You have a poncho-”

“Serape,” he muttered, sounding for all the world like a sulky child.

“ _ A suitable item of clothing we shall not name _ ,” Mercy said, pointedly. “We need it. There are more important things in this world than your obsession with aesthetic.” McCree made an exaggerated gasp. “Jesse. Seriously, please.”

“Aw, c’mon, you ever known me be serious? I’m offended, Angie. But I take your point. Here ya go. I want it back clean.” He looked over at Roadhog. “Not that I’m making comments about the cleanliness of either of you.” He tipped his hat at them. “Alrighty then. You have a nice ride.”

Mercy draped the serape over Junkrat, who made a small sleepy snuffling noise and pulled it to him tight. 

He drooled on it the entire way back to the Watchpoint.

McCree was going to be over the moon.

 

-

 

They arrived and Roadhog had to watch as they carried Junkrat away on a stretcher. He looked appallingly tiny - tall, but hideously thin, back arched crookedly, curled up in the foetal position. He was carried off and Mercy reassured Roadhog several times that she would look after him. Even though they were prisoners here. It wasn’t like Junker captivity at all. If you got caught by enemies, you’d be lucky to escape with your life and all your limbs. They didn’t patch up their prisoners unless they had some devious end in mind. That wasn’t how they did it in this world. Things were different. People had  _ mercy _ , to put it one way.

It was odd.

It was like a view to a past Roadhog only just remembered, something long-forgotten at the back of his mind.

He was ushering into a cell and cuffed to a desk, cuffs barely big enough and chafing horribly. He waited. 

Time passed.

He waited.

The door creaked open, a grey-haired man with a glowing red visor type thing entering the room. He sighed deeply, forehead creasing in irritation. Even without seeing his face, annoyance radiated from him. He took a seat opposite Roadhog, folding his arms. 

“So. Mako Rutledge. Alias ‘Roadhog’. Looks like it’s our lucky day. That bounty will go some way to refurbing this Watchpoint. Just what we all needed.” He fixed Roadhog with a glare, despite not having visible eyes. “Hear you and your partner have some treasure. So the story goes. What exactly did you find?”

_ He _ hadn’t found anything.

It was Junkrat’s treasure. It was, ergo, Junkrat’s business. Roadhog kept silent.

“You’re looking at a long time away. You can make this easier on yourselves.” That was what McCree had said earlier. Roadhog wondered if anyone ever went for that. In the Outback, it would be an obvious lie. He wasn’t sure about out here. However he did know he wasn’t about to betray Junkrat like that. Junkrat trusted him. 

He stayed silent.

“Your accomplice isn’t in too good a shape. You need our help. In return, we can offer you security, a guarantee we won’t turn you over to bounty hunters. You’ve proven yourselves somewhat efficient with jobs like the Crown Jewels. You could be of use to us.”

“I work for Junkrat,” Roadhog rumbled, low and insistent. “Not you.”

“And what if he doesn’t make it?”

“He will. Or I snap your neck right now.” Straining his wrist, Roadhog pulled at the cuff until the chain snapped and broke away from the table. Slowly, purposefully, he got to his feet, stepping forwards; the man stood up too, drawing a gun and readying himself, when the door opened and Mercy burst in. She looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes.

“Dr Ziegler. I’m in the middle of-”

“Making poor life choices, apparently,” Mercy replied, raising her eyebrows. “I can take care of this.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Jack. I walk in and find you about to go toe-to-toe with the person you are supposed to be questioning. The bar for my success here has been set rather low.” She looked over at Roadhog and smiled faintly. “Ignore his cynicism, it’s his age. Mr Fawkes is doing just fine.”

It sounded odd to hear someone use Junkrat’s real name, and add ‘mister’, no less.  _ Suits _ . With their weird little foibles and politeness and such. But Roadhog knew there was no point in starting a fight now (not that there really had been, he’d just been angrier than he had been in a long time) and so he sat down, the chair creaking under his immense weight. The man called Jack snorted and hauled himself out of the room, looking tired. He glanced back at Roadhog and pointed at him.

“You hurt Mercy, I won’t even hesitate.”

“Jack!” Mercy hissed. 

“What? Gotta lay down the law sometimes.” He shrugged and turned away. There was a large red 76 on the back of his jacket. That triggered something in Roadhog’s memory, reports of a vigilante wearing that insignia. And the name Jack was also rather telling...but he didn’t give a shit about that. Instead he looked across the desk at Mercy and sighed.

“How is-” he began, but cut off, the sound of his voice seeming strange.

“He’s stable.” Now that was a phrase  _ nobody _ used about Junkrat. It cause Roadhog to smirk beneath the mask. “Confused, yes. His memory cuts out just before the attack. He wanted to know where you were and used several very  _ interesting  _ expressions I’d never heard before. You learn something new everyday. I promised I’d come and get you now.”

“What’s...what’s wrong with him?” Roadhog asked cautiously. “You’re a doctor. You know shit like this. What the fucking hell is wrong with him? The radiation did somethin’ to his brain, didn’t it? What did it do?” He didn’t mean to sound pleading. He did. Just a little.

Mercy sighed. “I was hoping we could have this conversation later. He-” she hesitated and he nodded for her to continue. “He has a tumour. It’s putting pressure on various centres of his brain and causing these blackouts you mentioned...it’s not inoperable but neurosurgery is not my speciality, however-”

“Fix it,” Roadhog growled. “Fix it or your friend will have to carry out his threat after all.”

The doctor nodded. “We’ve caught it at a point where surgery will be relatively simple. However I would like to monitor him for a few months afterwards. And I would not recommend taking a trip back to your homeland any time soon. For reasons of health.”

Roadhog nodded. That was no hardship. Too many bad memories back home. It wasn’t really even a home anymore. 

Home was wherever Junkrat said they were headed next. That was how it went. They went all around the world and carried out jobs and were always one step ahead of those chasing them until the day they weren’t. Until side-effects of their previous home caught up to them.

“Please don’t cause any disagreements,” Mercy said as she moved to the door, escorting him out. “Jack is not altogether unreasonable, just bitter and tired sometimes. And less than he pretends to be. Nobody here is really looking for a fight, but if you try to find one everyone will respond in kind. When I say everyone, I mean  _ everyone _ .” Her eyes narrowed and he saw the pistol on her belt. He was certain that if it came down to it, he could take her down, but he knew he couldn’t fight the entire Watchpoint. Especially not without Junkrat. She was the only hope of helping Junkrat recover. Things getting back to normal again.

They headed through to an infirmary, where a little Korean girl and a young man with long brown dreadlocks were sat next to a chattering Junkrat, who was so wrapped up in his story he didn’t even notice Roadhog enter.

“So yer what, a gamer? What d’you play? I’m rather partial to fruit machines meself, but old Roadie’s a wizard on them ones with the claws, ‘s all the experience wi’ his hook. He won me a stuffed octopus, we called it Derek. I don’t have the patience, me. I just blow ‘em sky high.”

“Uh…” the Korean girl seemed a little taken aback, as most people where when faced with Junkrat on full motormouth. “Well, have you heard of StarCraft?”

“No?” Junkrat sounded confused. “‘s it like a fruit machine?”

The dreadlocked man laughed and the Korean girl chuckled. “No. More complicated. It’s a strategy game, I’m one of the best in the world.”

“Woah, fuck yeah! That’s fuckin’ A! An’ I can’t even get a stuffed animal without shoving a grenade in the machine. Right on! What about you?” He turned to the dreadlocked guy. “You do anything neat like that?”

“I’m a DJ. World famous, dude.”

“Oh fuck yeah, you are. Knew I’d seen you on posters somewhere. I just kinda assumed wanted posters, y’know? No offence, like. Just the circles I move in.” 

“None taken,” the guy replied. “You want, I’ll bring you up a mixset while you rest. It’ll be cool.”

“That sounds just stellar, mate. Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it. Least I can do, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Junkrat nodded, going quiet. He looked up at saw Roadhog and his entire face lit up. “Hog! I was worrying meself stupid about you, ya big lug." As if he'd really needed to be the one worrying. "C’mere, lemme introduce ya to me new mates. This’s Hana an’ she’s good at games and shit, and this’s Luce. He does...y’know, music. ‘s famous. We’re famous too!”

Lúcio laughed. “Yeah, dude. I know who you guys are. Did you really steal the Crown Jewels?”

“Bagged ‘em and got out of there pronto,” Junkrat answered cheerfully. 

“That’s crazy. You guys are nuts.” It didn’t seem to be an insult,  Lúcio was still smiling. “You guys wanna catch up?” Roadhog nodded slowly. “Cool cool, I’ll give you some space. See you later, man!” He waved. 

Hana smiled too. “Get well soon! I’ll bring some games up for you, teach you to play them. It’ll be fun.” She exited too.

“Lookin’ forward to it already.” He grinned at Roadhog and Mercy. “Ain’t they just lovely, Roadie? I like ‘em.”

Roadhog was silent. He looked over at Mercy and she nodded. 

“Call me if you need anything.”

They were left alone. Again Roadhog found himself seated in a chair that could barely hold him, pulling it up next to Junkrat’s bed and practically flopping into it. He was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. 

“Hey, what’s wrong Hog? I’m alright, ain’t I? Doc said she could get the problem out my head an’ I’d be right as rain in no time. Nothin’ to worry about.” Roadhog tensed and he saw Junkrat look at him with some concern. “Oi. Oi, mate. I’m okay. Look at me, sunny as ever. I’m on top of my game. I’m tip-top 10/10.”

Roadhog reached across and ran a hand across Junkrat’s hair. “Was worried. You didn’t see what happened.”

“Was it dramatic? Did it look cool? Did I start foaming at the mouth?” Junkrat asked excitably. Only he could be so excited about having a fucking seizure. “C’mon Hog, gimme the details.”

“It was bad,” he replied flatly. “Not dramatic, not cool. Just ugly. Didn’t want to watch that.”

“Shit mate, I’m sorry. Bloody awful timing, heh, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it though? Bloody awful.” He nudged Roadhog, trying to smile. “Are you that pissed off at me? I got us both caught. Y’could have run.”

“No. Couldn’t have. Gotta stick with you. ‘m your bodyguard.”

Junkrat grinned. “Course y’are. And yer the best bodyguard ever!”

Roadhog sighed deeply. “Knew somethin’  was up with you for a while, y’know? Just never found a way to broach it with you. Shoulda done somethin’. I shoulda-” 

“Jesus, Roadie, ya can’t take it all on yerself. It’s not yer fault.”

_ But it is _ . He thought.  _ In a roundabout way.  _ Wasn’t he partly responsible for the state Australia was in now? Wasn’t the radiation partially his fault? Junkrat’s current condition really  _ was _ his fault.

“Sposed to keep an eye on you,” Roadhog replied. 

“You’re not my fucking dad,” Junkrat retorted. “So-” he stuck his tongue out, blowing a raspberry, thus further proving he really was a child. “Piss off.”

“No. I’m not. But I’m old enough to be and you- you’re a fucking kid, someone’s gotta keep an eye out for you. Allowed to worry, Rat. Especially about me best mate.”

Junkrat was positively glowing with happiness. “Aw, yer such a softie. Thanks, mate.” Roadhog only grunted in reply. “Hey, Hog?” Junkrat’s tone had become one of concern,  _ fear _ , even. And ordinarily enough he  _ had _ no fear, so this was definitely something. “Uh, y’know...after the surgery...what with them fiddling about in my brain, what if- what if I don’t remember? What if I don’t- y’know,  _ us _ . Everything we did together, all the heists. What if I’m not  _ me _ any more?”

That wasn’t a concern Roadhog needed to think about, but now it had been pointed out it weighed on his mind. He didn’t want to think about that future. But then again, as long as Junkrat was alive…

It was only a tiny risk anyway. Mercy would have mentioned if it were something they genuinely needed to worry about.

“Not going to happen.”

“But if it does? You’ll-” Junkrat swallowed nervously. “You’ll stick with me, roight? Hog? Even if I go proper barmy?”

“And you aren’t already?” 

“Wow, fuck you too, ya cunt.” Junkrat smirked. “Promise?” He held out a hand, pinky finger extended. Roadhog nodded, extended his own finger delicately. They sealed the deal and Junkrat exhaled, leaning back into his pillow. “I’m telling ya mate, we’re onto a good thing here if we can make it work out. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“If you say so, boss,” Roadhog replied and Junkrat laughed.

Things would be okay.

 

-

 

The surgery went ahead the next day and Roadhog waited listlessly outside the medic’s. Several other members of the group came by to wish him their best, Reinhardt placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder and monologuing about justice and the glory he hoped they would achieve. It was oddly comforting. McCree brought a bottle of scotch round and suggested they split it. It wasn’t Roadhog’s drink of choice but he wasn’t about to say no, was he now? He actually spoke to him a little, though admittedly not much. Others passed by, but he never said a word back to them. Weird, how everyone was so supportive. Even Tracer, who he’d almost shot with his scrap gun, she wasn’t holding a grudge against him for it. Instead she started talking his ear off.

He didn’t mind that. Someone talking, talking, talking at him and not shutting up. It was a familiar comfort, even if it wasn’t Junkrat. 

Mercy emerged from the room and smiled at Roadhog grimly. “Well. I think that went well. He’s a little groggy right now, but he’s awake.”

She didn’t have to invite him in. He stormed right in there to see his friend, to see how he was. 

Junkrat was bleary and semi-conscious and not overly coherent, but when he saw Roadhog he beamed broadly. 

“Hog! Look at me, ‘m alive! ‘s a bloody miracle!” He tried to sit up and teetered. “All better!”

Of course. Of course he was the man who could come out of invasive surgery and grin like an idiot because he was made of rubber, he bounced back immediately. It  _ was _ a miracle, and it was a good one.

A few days later Junkrat posited the question Roadhog had been waiting for, had known would inevitably be asked. Still, he pretended to be surprised by it. “Say Hog, what say you and I stick ‘round here for a bit? Pickings seem rich enough. An’ Hana’s been teaching me that game she likes, an’ Rein’s been reading me this huuuuge book about some ring and it turns people invisible, like that’s fuckin’ wild, isn’t it? They’re not...they’re not actually that bad, are they? Other people? I always thought they were all, y’know, a bunch of lying, backstabbing thieves who’d sell you out for a cream cracker. ‘Cept you and me. But they ain’t that bad. Ya think we could make this work, Hoggo? ‘s not like going legit or anything, anyway. It’s still technically a crime, Overwatch being illegal an’ all that. We join up with them it’s not like we stop being criminals. It’s just...we get a shot at being heroes. An’ I’m not gonna lie, sounds pretty tempting, roight?”

Roadhog hesitated then nodded. “See how it goes. Can bail if it’s not up to much.”

And Junkrat grinned madly. “Perfect! I can’t wait to get back to blowing shit up. My fingers’ve been missing it, they’re itching to get to work. Got bombs to be making and that...the short one with the funny name, he’s got some upgrades and shit. I think this could be a laugh. If nothin’ else.”

Roadhog nodded again. “Like I said, you’re the boss.”

So they wound up joining them. Initially so Mercy could monitor Junkrat’s recovery, and then, somewhat strangely, as members of the team. Ish. It was good, Roadhog decided, for Junkrat to have friends closer to his own age.

But even with all them, new people, new sources of entertainment for him to reel off stories at, he clung to Roadhog’s side, babbling away as always. Because that was what he did. 

Besides, they were partners.

They were in this together, weren’t they?

No matter what.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and just fuck me up.  
> another thing: I frequently witness seizures so I know what they're like and god they are horrible to watch. My sister's epileptic. Different kind of seizure but that's my frame of reference for this. So yeah I know what I'm doing there.


End file.
